First Sight
Planning our trip to Mt. Rainier, it was clear that the park’s namesake peak wasn’t always. Clear, that is. The park boundary envelopes the entire base of the volcano, and many visitors spend days exploring its surroundings without ever laying eyes on its actual face. Its location in the Pacific Northwest pours an average 126 inches of precipitation on its western side annually, causing low-hanging clouds to completely obscure its 14,410 ft. grandeur (source).
Prepared for, but hopeful against, this possibility, nothing could have prepared us for that first eye-popping turn in the road where the entire glacier-covered peak appeared in its full glory. To say it was breathtaking would be a gross understatement. In a way, it was like coming out of the Wawona tunnel and seeing Yosemite Valley dramatically appear. That scene, though so familiar to me, continues to move me every time I see it. But that first view of Mt. Rainier possessed an element that for me Tunnel View has long since lost – that of something new, a revelation of things I had never seen or experienced.
Attempted Words
Every attempt of my own to describe the scene falls pathetically short. Thus I will rely on the words of John Muir, who summited Rainier in 1888: “The noble King Mountain was in full view from here, glorifying the bright, sunny day with his presence, rising in godlike majesty over the woods. . . . Out of the forest at last there stood the mountain, wholly unveiled, awful in bulk and majesty, filling all the view like a separate, new-born world, yet withal so fine and so beautiful it might well fire the dullest observer to desperate enthusiasm” (source).
Muir’s words come closer to allowing the reader to visualize the peak than I could ever hope, but even they can’t fully capture the astounding awe I felt at first sight, and every subsequent view thereafter. Some things, particularly experiences, cannot truly be condensed into words. Incredibly gifted writers can bring a reader nearer to understanding than perhaps others, but that understanding is largely dependent on the reader’s own experiences. To describe something completely new to someone who has never themselves experienced anything similar would be but a shadow of the reality.
Glory Revealed
The prophet Isaiah is one of a number of biblical figures to whom God revealed his glory. And he was given the daunting task of sharing his vision with the people of Israel. Guided by the Holy Spirit, he wrote, “It was in the year King Uzziah died that I saw the Lord. He was sitting on a lofty throne, and the train of his robe filled the Temple” (Isaiah 6:1, NLT). He goes on to describe the seraphim attending him, who cried to each other, “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of Heaven’s Armies! The whole earth is filled with his glory!” (6:3).
Surrounded by such holiness, such purity, Isaiah sinfulness overwhelms him. He cries in desperation, “It’s all over! I am doomed, for I am a sinful man. I have filthy lips, and I live among a people with filthy lips. Yet I have seen the King, the LORD of Heaven’s Armies” (6:5). Isaiah is cleansed from his guilt, and immediately he hears a question from the Lord. “Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?” (6:8a). Without hesitation, Isaiah answers the call: “Here I am. Send me” (6:8b), and he is sent.
Glimpses of Glory
As Muir’s words fell short in describing the sight of Mt. Rainier, so I’m sure Isaiah’s words fell woefully short of describing his vision of the Lord. How could one possibly put into their limited vocabulary the experience of seeing the glory of the one and only infinite, holy, great God? And how can we as readers catch more than a glimpse of the reality he described? I don’t know that we can, but he created us with imagination, albeit a limited one, but one that allows us to envision things beyond what our senses encounter. And while our imagination does not necessarily depict reality, it does awaken our senses to something more, something beyond ourselves and our experiences.
When I saw Mt. Rainier on that gorgeous, cloudless day, I glimpsed the glory of God. Not like Isaiah did. But in the way God meant for me to. The mountain I saw was not God, but it was a reflection of his glory. It was breathtaking, majestic, powerful, mighty, steadfast, beautiful. Glorious. “The whole earth is filled with his glory.” I pray you encounter your own glimpse of God’s glory, and in that glimpse you find yourself, like Isaiah, overwhelmed with who he is. And may that revelation urge you to answer his call. “Here I am. Send me.”
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